A siren song as green as spring
sweeps oe'r wild Antrim peaks.
Troughs appear in lulling winds
And desire is all we seek.

And could we.
would we,
have challenged fate,
had we know what fate would do

Would there have been the strength within to fight
to flail.
Had we but time.
But time is nothing, in the end.

For spies and lust and dust will drip
on Hogwarts' dying towers.
And we will be beyond the walls,
and still beyond the veil.

For hate is naught when pitched against
the citadel of love.
And Riddles are left umremarked
for riddles are but lies.

And rise we might,
and rise we would,
for what else could we do.

Reality will bite the dust,
and dust is hate,
and dust is dirt,
and dust is merely Floo.